


I Am Yours

by SkylineProphet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fiction, Flash Fiction & Vignettes, General fiction, Literature, Monsters, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylineProphet/pseuds/SkylineProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written as a request.</p>
    </blockquote>





	I Am Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a request.

She’s there when he enters his room for the evening, as she is some nights, unannounced but not entirely unexpected. Her smile is all persuasion, but he’s in no mood tonight. He walks past her without a second glance. 

He knows he won’t be able to get rid of her that easily, so he’s not at all surprised when her arms encircle him from behind, her hands snaking their way under his shirt to explore his bare chest. He sighs.

“What do you want, Avi?”

He can hear the smile in her words. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“A little too obvious.” 

Her grip on him tightens; he can feel her nails digging into his flesh. The female Sundra has a decidedly short fuse, but so does he. He grabs her wrist and pulls, hard, dragging her around to face him. 

She winces, teeth bared. “Hey, watch it!” 

Imai shoves her again, crushing her between his body and the cave wall, and she falls silent. He can feel the heat of her against him. Her eyes are wild and dangerous, and he can feel his desire building. He hates that Avi can do this to him. 

As if she can hear his thoughts, she pushes her hips forward, grinding against him, and his desire flares. Her legs part easily at his prompting. She’s wet, ready, and her lithe fingers undo his jeans with little effort. And then those same fingers are on him. Imai moans low in his throat, leaning down to press his lips to hers. His fingers tangle themselves into her hair, and he gives a harsh tug that isn’t entirely unintentional. 

She hisses as he releases her, his hands moving down to her hips. He lifts her easily, and she wraps her legs around his waist as he enters her. 

“Imai,” she breathes, voice thick with desire. He shifts inside her, and she bucks wildly against him, throwing her head back in ecstasy. 

He hates her. He hates that he wants her. And he hates that it’s getting difficult to remember how much he hates her. 

Avi leans forward and nibbles his lip with her sharp teeth; bites her way from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck. They’re not sweet, little love-nips either; they’re hard, and they hurt, and he hisses every time she finds a new spot to leave one. 

A particularly hard bite catches him off guard, and he winces, but the pain isn’t unwelcomed. It isn’t until she runs her tongue over the newly made cut that he even realizes he’s bleeding. Her mouth is hot against his skin as she drinks him in. When she pulls back to look at him, her lips are stained bright with his blood, and her eyes are hungry in a new way.

This is their new favorite game, and it’s simultaneously an exercise in abandon and self-control.

He thrusts against her, pressing deeper inside her. He’s not careful, and he’s not gentle. She doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyelids flutter, and her breath comes in short burst with each thrust. He feels her tighten around him and knows she’s close. 

She rocks against him, filling him with a rush of pleasure. He says her name without meaning to. 

“I am yours,” she answers--the greeting reserved for the highest Sundra. 

He crushes her lips with his own, quickening his thrusts. She cries out only once as her body goes rigid with release. 

Avi holds her breath when she comes. Imai can feel her body quiver beneath him, though she doesn’t make a sound--just closes her eyes in quiet rapture. He’s not far behind--with one final thrust, he spills his seed, and she shudders as she receives his essence. When it’s over, they untangle themselves and move to his bed. They’re tired and out of breath, and all Imai can think of is how beautiful she looks, features illuminated by candlelight and wearing nothing but a sheer skirt, and that troubles him. 

Because they can pretend all they want, but it doesn’t change the fact that Imai is basically a prisoner, and Avi has had a taste of every other male in these caves. This isn’t love--not even close--it’s a desperate sort of lust, a hunger to match their condition. 

She lays her head on his chest, her cheek flush against his skin, and seems thoroughly contented there. Her hand moves to cup his cheek, and it’s such an affectionate, normal gesture. 

“I am yours,” she repeats, her voice honey-sweet.

No, this isn’t love.


End file.
